


Valentine's Day

by akamine_chan



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge: C6DVD, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-14
Updated: 2008-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I thought we agreed we weren't going to celebrate Valentine's Day.  It's a crass commercialization of a made-up holiday that is the corruption of a traditional religious—"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TallyKat668](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=TallyKat668).



> Beta'd by the lovely Zabira and written for TallyKat668 as part of Isiscolo's [C6D Valentine's Day Cardathon](http://isiscolo.livejournal.com/tag/cardathon)

There was an envelope next to Fraser's tea when he got out of the shower. "Ray, what is this?" He picked up the large white envelope, surprised at the heft of it.

"Hmmm...what?" Ray had his nose buried in the sports page, reading about the Blackhawks' injured list. He looked up, his glasses perched on his face, and Fraser felt a heated flutter in his stomach. In the six months they'd been together, Fraser had discovered that he had a "thing" for Ray in his glasses.

Fraser thoughtfully tapped a finger against the envelope. "This envelope. The one with my name on it."

Ray raised the newspaper and went back to reading. "I'm sure I don't know why there's an envelope with your name on it, Fraser."

The newspaper hid his face, but not the smirk in his voice. Fraser sighed. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to celebrate Valentine's Day. It's a crass commercialization of a made-up holiday that is the corruption of a traditional religious—"

"Fraser."

Fraser heard so much in Ray's expressive voice - exasperation, affection, love. It still surprised him how much Ray loved him. After the painful fiasco with Victoria, he had resigned himself to being alone. It had been safer, for both him and those he loved.

He'd felt that way until Ray Kowalski had stepped into his life with open arms and a hard hug. His world hadn't been the same since.

Ray briskly folded the paper and set in on the table. Taking a sip of his coffee, he said, "I was married for a long time, Fraser. And one of the things I learned was that when Stella said 'Oh, Ray, don't worry about it,' that _really_ meant I seriously needed to worry about it. If she said, 'I don't need any silly presents,' it _really_ meant I better go out and buy her a freakin' diamond ring." He paused and gestured towards Fraser with his index and pinky finger. "You say, 'Let's not celebrate this stupid holiday,' and I hear 'Please buy me some chocolates and a card. Maybe some flowers.'"

Opening his mouth to deny Ray's accusation, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, he met Ray's blue eyes and..._wilted_. He couldn't lie to him. Ray had a way of seeing through Fraser's half-truths and camouflage. "You make me sound pathetic," he muttered, sitting down heavily in the chair, perilously close to pouting.

"Not pathetic. Just human." Ray set down his coffee mug and gestured towards the envelope with his chin. "Drink your tea and open your card, Ben. And if you behave yourself, you'll get your chocolates."

Curiosity getting the best of him, Fraser took a sip of his tea and pulled out his pocketknife, cutting the envelope open carefully and looking at the card inside. It was handcrafted, possibly by a very young child. Fraser pulled it out and examined it.

It was made from dark reddish-orange card stock and was cut to resemble an arch. It had two side flaps, which were folded over to meet in the center, making it a simple triptych. The front was decorated with paper hearts of all sizes and shapes, some of them imperfectly cut. It was strangely appealing and Fraser couldn't help but smile down at it.

He opened the two flaps and removed a folded piece of pink paper, looking at the inscription written in Ray's leftward-tilting scrawl, surrounded by yet more cut-out hearts.

_  
Ben—_

_I don't know what I would have  
done without you in my life. My  
friend and partner._

_   Yours always,  
        Ray_   


Fraser swallowed hard and blinked, trying desperately not to embarrass himself. He set the card down gently and opened the folded paper. On one side was an advertisement for a band playing down at Reggie's Rock Club on the South Side. On the other side Ray had scribbled...song lyrics?

"Ray...I don't understand."

He snorted at Fraser, leaning over the table. "That there—" he pointed at the paper with index finger and pinky extended, "is the moment I realized I was in trouble. That song is the closest the Clash comes to a love song. I wrote the lyrics down, thinking of you, then I did that." Now, Ray was pointing to where he'd written several permutations of Fraser's name.

Fraser still didn't understand. He shook his head. "You also drew a spider and a web, and this looks like a grocery list," he pointed out. In addition, the paper was ripped, crumpled and severely stained by what smelled like coffee. The coffee had smeared the lyrics slightly.

Ray was shaking his head. "See, this is why I think you had a depraved childhood."

"Ah, I think you mean deprived, Ray."

"Whatever." He waved his hand around in the air and cleared his throat. "When you're a kid and you get a crush on somebody, you spend a lot of time writing down their name and yours, together. Usually with a big heart around it. 'Cause you're going to get married and you want to see how your names will fit together."

Ray was blushing. Fraser wasn't positive, but it seemed like Ray's cheeks were a little ruddier than normal. "That's what I was doing when I wrote down your name. Seeing how it looked with mine," he blurted.

"Ah." Fraser smoothed the paper out on the table and read the lyrics, trying to hear the song in his head. Looking over at Ray, Fraser noticed that he was jiggling his leg, a sure sign of nervousness, the Ray-equivalent of Fraser's neck-crack or eyebrow rub. He stood and moved around the table to stand next to him. "Thank you, Ray." Reaching down, he cupped Ray's stubble-rough face and brought their lips together in the softest, sweetest kiss he could manage, trying to convey his love through this simple, ordinary touch.

"You're welcome, Ben," Ray muttered against his lips, trying to pull Fraser closer.

He laughed softly and held himself away, teasing. "It's a charming card, Ray. Did one of the children down at the community center make it?" Ray spent a lot of his free time volunteering down at the local community center, working with at-risk kids.

Fraser could actually _feel_ the heat in Ray's face as he blushed. He pulled away and looked into Ray's face, confused.

"I made the card," Ray mumbled. "The kids helped a little."

"Ah." Fraser walked into the kitchen and opened the junk drawer, digging around for something. He came back to the table holding a large envelope, defiantly meeting Ray's gaze. "I know what I said, but—" He broke off as Ray waved his hand around.

"It's okay. Lemme see your knife for a minute."

Fraser handed over the knife and watched as Ray opened the two-toned envelope and took out the card. It was dark pink in color, with hearts cut out of the cardstock. The hearts were grouped together to form a larger heart. Fraser had chosen a contrasting blue paper to back the hearts. He was really quite proud of the card.

Ray fingered the front of the card before opening it up. Inside, Fraser had neatly written words that had come straight from his heart.

_  
Ray -_

_This poem expresses only the  
smallest part of what I  
feel for you._

_Love, affection, trust._

_Partnership. For now and  
always._

_        Benton_   


Inside, on a torn sheet of blue paper, Fraser had copied one of his favorite poems by Rumi, one that seemed to come close to how he felt about Ray. He watched as Ray slowly read the poem, watched as he blinked away tears and looked at him with such openness in his blue eyes.

Ray cleared his throat noisily. "I love you, Ben."

"And I, you, Ray." Fraser laughed and pulled Ray to his feet. "Well, I feel that I should properly thank you for knowing what I really want and for my Valentine's Day card. I'm sure we can think of something..." He let the sentence trail off suggestively and led Ray to the bedroom.

It was going to be a wonderful Valentine's Day, after all.

* * *

Fraser slowly walked backwards towards the bed, holding tight to Ray's hand and unbuttoning his flannel shirt. Being fairly dexterous, he avoided household obstacles—the laundry basket by the door, Ray's running shoes carelessly tossed on the floor, Dief's chew toys scattered underfoot.

He watched Ray's face, delighting in the slight blush he found there, mesmerized by the blue-gray eyes darkened by lust. Need flared, and he spun quickly, pushing Ray roughly down onto the bed. Ray bounced once and leaned back on his elbows, a cocky grin on his face.

Feeling a sudden feral drive to mark Ray, to own him body and soul, Fraser fell to his knees next to the bed, grabbing Ray by his slender waist and dragging him to the edge of the mattress. Ray, laughing, wiggled to help, dangling his legs over the edge of the bed and winking suggestively at Fraser.

Fraser felt a growl rising in his throat and bit his lip to hold it in, trembling in an effort to slow down, to savor the taste and touch of Ray's body. It was a battle that he often fought, and always seemed to lose. He wondered fleetingly if he'd lost a long time ago, when a total stranger hugged him, called him partner and turned his life upside down.

His fingers tightened on Ray's hips, holding him still as he lowered his face to the rapidly growing hardness behind Ray's zipper. Slowly, teasingly, Fraser nuzzled Ray's cock through the denim, inhaling the clean male scent of him. His penis was hard as well, but he buried his own needs under the overwhelming desire to drive Ray out of his mind. This was about Ray and how he made Fraser crazy with the movements of his body and the laughter in his voice. Serious and studious in his glasses, graceful on the dance floor, bright, bright energy and spiky, experimental hair.

With deliberate slowness, Fraser pulled the zipper down, ignoring the gasp from above, and concentrated on freeing Ray's penis from his underwear. Once it was free, he opened his mouth and took Ray in, delighting in the salty, musky taste of him. He shook off Ray's hands, which were carding though his hair, gently trying to encourage Fraser to take more of Ray's penis into his mouth. Fraser held him down onto the bed with his broad hands. He was probably leaving dark bruises on Ray's golden skin, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to care.

A loud moan from above caught Fraser's attention and he looked up, still tracing lines on the soft skin of Ray's cock with his tongue. Ray had tangled his hands in the sheets and was trying to thrust upwards against the force of Fraser holding and controlling him. His eyes were tightly closed and he was panting softly, looking aroused and lost in his pleasure. Fraser felt pride in his ability to put that look on Ray's face, to make him take joy from his own body.

Returning to the task at hand, Fraser began to write the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms on the head of Ray's penis with his tongue, loving the way it made Ray twitch and groan and fight against his grip. He'd gotten to the second section – the Fundamental Freedoms every Canadian citizen was entitled to – when Ray started to plead, begging for _faster, harder, more._

It made Fraser light-headed and dizzy, listening to the little moans and gasps that Ray was trying to hold back. Fraser selfishly wanted to prolong this torment, to draw it out, push Ray closer and closer to the edge of want and drive him over in a hot rush. Ray took the decision out of his hands by making a sound that Fraser had never heard before, a strange combination of a throaty moan and a yowl that raised the hair on the back of his neck.

Suddenly, his own arousal was beyond bearing and he rubbed himself hard against Ray's leg, grunting with the movement of his hips. He was sure that he would be embarrassed by his crude behavior later, but all Fraser cared about right now was the friction on his penis and relaxing his throat to take Ray in as deeply as he could. He bobbed his head, spurred on by the increasingly desperate sounds being torn from Ray.

Ray shuddered and tensed, crying out sharply as he came, spurting pulses of bittersweet fluid into Fraser's mouth. Fraser swallowed greedily and moaned, still humping Ray's leg, feeling his own orgasm surge through him, filling his boxer shorts with damp, sticky warmth.

Fraser carefully licked Ray clean before allowing himself to collapse against him, resting his head against Ray's chest and listening to his heartbeat slow. Ray ran his fingers through Fraser's hair, petting him with still-trembling hands. Eventually, Fraser gathered enough strength to push himself up and shrug out of his shirt. With clumsy fingers, he stripped his jeans and boxers off before turning to divest Ray of his clothing.

Ray pulled him into the bed and they wiggled under the covers, exchanging lazy, sweet kisses until they fell asleep.

* * *

It was dark by the time Dief ducked through the wolf-door (_Doggy door, furface_) and let himself back in. It was quiet and if it weren't for his wolfish senses, he would think that the house was empty. But he could feel their presence in the house, a warm, comfortable buzz in the back of his brain. His pack.

He passed by his food dish, sniffing in disdain at the stink of diet wolf-food. Dief wasn't sure what Ben was trying to convey with the continued purchase of that nasty stuff, but Dief was sure he wasn't amused. He'd go out later and hunt down some food. Maybe donuts at Chin-Yen's Oriental Pastries and Old-Fashioned Laundromat.

He stuck his paw under the refrigerator, pulling out the card he'd hidden there earlier in the week. Carefully, he picked it up in his mouth and put it on the table where it would be plainly visible in the morning. While Dief didn't necessarily believe in Valentine's Day, he wanted his pack-mates to be clear about the regard he held for them. No matter how much he teased them.

Dief patrolled the perimeter of the house, nosing at all the doors and windows, alert for the presence of _not-pack_. He might not be able to hear very well, but there was nothing wrong with his nose. He stopped for a moment to check on Turtle, pressing his muzzle to the glass, reassured by the slow flutter of heart and breath, felt but not heard.

Once he was finished with his inspection, Dief headed into the bedroom, wrinkling his lip at the strong scent of rut. He was amazed at how often Ben and Ray mated; they were worse than half-grown pups. He sneezed in disgust before padding over to where Ray sprawled on his side of the bed. He nuzzled at Ray's ear briefly before licking it, relishing the taste of salt and sweat and _family_. His family.

Ray sleepily tried to push him away and Dief could feel the vibrations of Ray's grumbling. He opened his jaws and grinned wolfishly, stepping between the splayed bodies, and making his way to the foot of the bed. Turning twice, he settled down onto the bed, keeping in physical contact with Ben and Ray. He groaned in happiness and closed his eyes, content and warm with his pack.

-fin-


End file.
